


l'appel du vide

by aformofmotion, momentinsubtext



Series: Beyond The Help Of Falling Stars [7]
Category: Doctor Who, Torchwood
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-31
Updated: 2014-08-31
Packaged: 2018-02-15 12:42:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2229381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aformofmotion/pseuds/aformofmotion, https://archiveofourown.org/users/momentinsubtext/pseuds/momentinsubtext
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Doctor puts his plan in motion.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> l'appel du vide - the unexplainable desire to jump when on the edge of a cliff

What happens is this: the Doctor takes Gwen to a cafe in Manchester, in early 1981. They get food, and sit there chatting for about an hour. At the end of the meal, the bell over the door jingles and the Rani's mind collides with the Doctor's.  
  
He reaches for Gwen without thinking about it and before she can ask what's wrong she's anchoring him and she _knows_.  
  
"I _told_ you to take the demipath away from her," she says, his voice just a beat behind hers. "I thought you said this wasn't safe."  
  
"It isn't." He takes a deep breath. "Just a second more. I'll be able to cope, then."  
  
She nods minutely.  
  
The Rani and Sister-of-Mine approach the table. "Doctor."  
  
"Rani." He lets go of Gwen's wrist and crosses his arms over his chest to look down at them. "Sister-of-Mine. Long time no see."  
  
"Not for us," the Rani says. "You have something we want."  
  
"Yes, I'd got that impression."  
  
"The Master," Sister-of-Mine says impatiently. "We want the fobwatch."  
  
"We?" He arches an eyebrow at the Rani.  
  
She shrugs. "How else do you think I convinced her not to drain me?"  
  
"That's awful," Gwen says. The Doctor makes a noncommital noise. "Doctor-"  
  
"Gwen. I won't fault her her survival skills, but don't think that I'm not angry, don't ever make that mistake. _This_ is something I saw coming." He levels his gaze at the Rani. "Tell me you have terms of some kind, that you don't just expect me to hand him over for nothing."  
  
The Rani laughs. "We don't really expect you to turn him over at all."  
  
"Then I'm going to surprise you. Your terms."  
  
Sister-of-Mine waves her hand at the window, where they can see Sam Tyler's stretcher. "You get to keep him."  
  
"That's not much of a trade. One human for one Time Lord? Doesn't seem fair, does it, Gwen? I think they're trying to cheat us."  
  
Gwen doesn't have anything to say to that. She _does_ have the urge to kick him in the shins under the table, but she smothers it; she's pretty sure he has more respect for human life than that. He's _probably_ working on a plan, not actively being a colossal ass. Probably.  
  
"And," the Rani says, petting the toy Clown in the crook of her elbow, "I won't use my demipath to finish off what's left of your sanity."  
  
"And I walk away from this without your friend here trying to drain me."  
  
"Oh, I learned that lesson the first time," Sister-of-Mine says.  
  
"Agreed, then."  
  
"Agreed?" Gwen's a little bit disturbed by the fact that she spoke in concert with the Rani. She's a bit _more_ disturbed that the Doctor seems to be agreeing to this trade.  
  
"Do I need to repeat myself? Agreed. I agree. I accept your terms." He sticks his hand out. "Let's shake on it."  
  
The Rani looks at him suspiciously, but shakes his hand anyway.  
  
That second of contact is all the opening he needs to isolate the demipath's neural patterns. _Got you_ , he thinks.  
  
 _Oh, what?_ it snaps. _Like I don't have enough problems? What do you want?_  
  
 _Your cooperation._ He briefly outlines his plan.  
  
 _And what do I get? In case you hadn't noticed, I'm bonded to her. You take her down, I'm kind of along for the ride._  
  
Not necessarily. Without assistance I'm stronger than she is, I'll break your bond, let you go free.  
  
And then what am I supposed to do? I'm a parasite _, dimwit._  
  
 _Find someone else to feed on. There are plenty of tasty humans around, you'll be fine. Don't tell me you actually like her company._  
  
So what do you need me to do?  
  
Just let her see what she expects to see. Don't let her see what she shouldn't. That's it.  
  
Fine. Can we be done here?  
  
The whole exchange takes about three heartbeats. He drops the Rani's hand and smiles at her. "Gwen," he says pleasantly. "I've just thought of something."  
  
"I don't like the sound of that at all."  
  
"Sam Tyler is supposed to be in a car chase today. The real Sam Tyler, the one who belongs in this timestream."  
  
"So?"  
  
"So then he's supposed to disappear. No body is ever found, remember?"  
  
"Again, so?"  
  
"So I need you to go find him."  
  
"Like hell you do. If you wanted to get me out of the way you could have brought me _home_ -"  
  
"I'm not trying to get you out of the way. Gwen Cooper, look at me. I don't want to get you out of the way. I don't. But I do need you to find Sam Tyler and bring him back to the Tardis. We need to get him to the hospital in 2006, in order to keep the timelines intact."  
  
"Not buying it."  
  
"Gwen, please. I don't have the time or patience to deal with that _and_ this."  
  
"I go home right after," she says firmly. "No more stalling. No more detours."  
  
"Also agreed. Wow, I'm making a lot of deals today." He gets up from the table. "Don't forget to pay the bill before you head out. Come along, ladies."  
  
  
  
He leaves the two of them outside the Tardis, as if he'd ever leave the Master's fobwatch anywhere except in his own pocket.  
  
He lifts the fobwatch to his lips and cracks it open, just a tiny bit. Time swirls around him, tensing and filling the air with the sharp tang of anticipation.  
  
"Master," he whispers to the energy sealed inside, barely a breath. "The Rani and Sister-of-Mine, of the Family of Blood, have your body and are attempting to ransom it for your soul. I won't let them have it, I _won't_ , I have a plan, but I need- look, I know you hate me and I don't blame you, but I need you to not let on that you're back, _please_."  
  
He doesn't bother to click the fobwatch closed again before sliding it back into his pocket and leaving the Tardis.  
  
"Well?" the Rani demands.  
  
"I have it."  
  
"We know you have it. Hand it over."  
  
He feels it the second the Master leaves the fobwatch, the metal going cold under his fingers. He clicks it shut and pulls it out, dangling on it's chain. The Clown fulfills it's part of the bargain, the Rani doesn't notice that the trinket is empty.  
  
One of his hearts skips a beat when the Master's body shudders, but he doesn't move after that and he relaxes.  
  
"There's still time to change your mind," he offers.  
  
Sister-of-Mine actually giggles. "Toss it over there and take your prize before we _do_."  
  
"Please-"  
  
"Oh, when has that ever worked?" the Rani asks.  
  
"Never. But I had to try." He tosses the fobwatch in the direction they've indicated and thinks _now_. It hasn't even hit the ground when they start moving.  
  
The Clown has the Rani trounced up in the span of three blinks and he's not far behind with Sister-of-Mine, holding her under his arm like the child she appears to be. She kicks and bites and the second he starts to drop her he snaps, the dam holding back his fear and rage (how dare they, how _dare_ they) breaking wide open.  
  
His face contorts into something ugly and he lets her go, bounces her up again as soon as she hits the ground, this time with a hand at her throat. "That's enough," he says. "Being conscious for this is a courtesy and you'll treat it as such or have it revoked. And if you so much as _try_ to steal a drop of life from either of us, I'll snap this fragile little neck of yours, _do you understand?_ "  
  
"What about her?" she asks sullenly, jerking her head in the direction of the Rani.  
  
"She's fair game." He swings her up onto his shoulder and starts for the door. He falters for a second when he sees the Master, standing beside the stretcher staring at him, eyes wide with something he refuses to identify.  
  
"You-"  
  
" _Not now._ " He pushes past and leads them inside, to the sealed room they'd prepared ahead of time. He tosses Sister-of-Mine down into the beanbag chair. "You can stay here until I figure out what to do with you." He waits until the Clown shoves the Rani in as well, and slams the door. _Go_ , he tells the Clown.  
  
It goes.  
  
He leans against the wall briefly, shaking, then turns around.  
  
"You threatened to kill her," the Master says, and there's no denying the admiration in his voice. "She looks like a nine year old and you-"  
  
"I know." He feels hysterical. "She could have killed you. She _could_ have."  
  
"And you think I hate you." He grins viciously. "What would you do if I loved you?"  
  
"Don't-" It's half a sob, and in the next second he slams the Master into the wall and is kissing him like he needs it to live.  
  
The Master lets him get away with it for a minute, then shifts to get a better angle and brings their bodies into alignment. After that what's left of the Doctor's self control is shot; he ruts gracelessly against him, hands tearing at clothing, and comes less than five minutes later.  
  
"What are you, ninety?" the Master gripes.  
  
He laughs helplessly into the curve of the Master's shoulder, not an altogether sane sound. "Please," he gasps, not even sure what he's asking for. "Please, Master, please."  
  
"You're even less stable than the last one." The Doctor's hand finds his erection and he growls. "Over the couch."  
  
The Doctor scrambles to obey and he takes a minute to imprint that image in his memory before slicking up with the Doctor's come and shoving into him without any preparation whatsoever. The Doctor keens and rocks back against him, knuckles white where he clings to the couch. He fucks him mercilessly, makes the Doctor come twice more before he does.  
  
"Your stamina leaves something to be desired." He fixes his clothes and marches his fingers up the Doctor's spine.  
  
The Doctor twitches away from him. "'mtoosensstive," he slurs.  
  
He does it again.  
  
"Arse." There's no venom in it. He groans. "I think you broke me."  
  
"I don't think that was my doing."  
  
He peels himself off the couch and makes a face at it. " _So_ not looking forward to cleaning that up. Yuck."  
  
"You started it."  
  
"I'm not likely to forget." He looks down at himself. "Wardrobe. Then shower. You too."  
  
"I promised to destroy you."  
  
"And that can't wait another half an hour?"  
  
He's startled into laughter. "Unstable _and_ funny. I'm tempted to _like_ this model."  
  
"And easy. Don't forget easy." He gives up trying to get his pants back up without creating a bigger mess and just takes them off. "Come on. I'll put the gun in your hand myself if you want, but come _on_."


	2. Chapter 2

After showering and getting dressed in presentable clothes, the Doctor finally feels comfortable in his own skin again. He shrugs the blue jacket on as an afterthought and pokes his head around the corner to where he can feel the Master waiting impatiently. "All set?"  
  
"For _ages_."  
  
"It's been five minutes." He holds out his hand and, to his surprise, the Master takes it.  
  
The first thing the Doctor notices when they get back to the console room is that Gwen is back. The second thing is that she has the timeline-proper Sam Tyler with her. The third thing is that the couch is clean and she's standing well on the opposite side of the console.  
  
They are never, ever, _ever_ going to speak of this.  
  
"How long have you been back?"  
  
"Long enough to shift us into the vortex."  
  
He blinks. "I didn't notice. When-"  
  
"About six minutes ago. I'm not even going to ask how you managed to not notice."  
  
"I was distracted!"  
  
"By w- no. No, I'm not asking. I don't want to know." She pinches the bridge of her nose. "Too late, I'm already thinking about it. Great. Just think about something else. Doctor, what's our next move?"  
  
"Get Sam Tyler back to the first crash site," he says instantly. "The one in 2006."  
  
"Well don't just stand there. This will go more smoothly if we work together."  
  
Within seconds the Tardis is screeching into existence just down the street from where the Weeping Angel had originally shunted Sam Tyler into the past.  
  
"Stay here," the Doctor says, pointing to the Master. "Last thing we need is for someone to see you. Watch him, will you?"  
  
"What?"  
  
He's not sure which one of them to answer, so instead he lifts Sam Tyler off the floor and heads for the door, ignoring both of their protests.  
  
He puts Sam on the ground beside his car and makes a call to 999, waits until he sees the ambulance arrive to head back.  
  
He's barely through the door before Gwen is in his space, shoving her finger into his chest.  
  
"Don't you _ever_ leave me alone with him again."  
  
"What did you say to her?" he asks mildly, looking over at the Master.  
  
"Nothing that wasn't true."  
  
"Never. Again," Gwen says. "I mean it."  
  
He puts his hands up in surrender. "Whatever you say."  
  
"Doctor. He followed me to the bathroom to regale me with stories of your... escapades."  
  
He gives the Master a look. "Did you really?"  
  
"I was bored."  
  
He removes the finger Gwen still has poking his chest and squeezes her hand. "I'm sorry, Gwen. Really. But, on the bright side, I can finally take you home."  
  
"You _could_ have taken me home before," she points out.  
  
"If you'd really wanted to go you could have gone. It's not like you don't know how to fly her."  
  
She rolls her eyes. "What are you going to do with Sister-of-Mine?"  
  
"I was rather hoping you could take her."  
  
"Me?"  
  
"Torchwood. You've got a brig or something, right? All you have to do is lock her up for a while, she'll burn out in a couple of months."  
  
"Why can't you just keep her here?"  
  
"Because given that much time she could cause all sorts of havoc inside the Tardis systems. That room isn't supposed to open from the inside, but she's clever. She'll get out and I don't have the manpower to keep a guard on her."  
  
"And you think I do."  
  
"You have seven agents. It's not that big a stretch."  
  
She sighs. "All right. Fine. But this is the last favour I'm doing for you."  
  
"Absolutely," he agrees.  
  
"If anyone cares," the Master interrupts. "The Rani escaped some time ago."  
  
"What?"  
  
"When?"  
  
"While you were out abandoning my body by the side of the road," he says.  
  
"I didn't-"  
  
"She regenerated and slipped right out the front door. Probably hasn't gotten very far."  
  
The Doctor turns around and heads back toward the door.  
  
"And how do you plan on finding her?" the Master asks sharply. "You have no idea what she looks like, and the Archangel Network is up and running, she's going to be shielded."  
  
He stops. "Not from you she won't be."  
  
"What makes you think I'll help you?"  
  
"Why would you mention it if you weren't going to help?" Gwen asks.  
  
The Master glares at her.  
  
"She has a point." The Master switches his glare to him. "If you need actual incentive, just think of that time she spent two years giving your human counterpart nightmares."  
  
"She did more than just that," he growls.  
  
"That's the spirit."  
  
  
  
In the end, the Rani isn't that hard to find. The Master links in to Archangel the second he steps outside the Tardis doors, and after that it's simply a matter of catching up to her.  
  
She's regenerated older. Mid-thirties, at least, which makes it a lot easier for Gwen to point a gun at her. She's pretty, too, which shouldn't be a surprise but somehow is.  
  
"What do we do with her?" Gwen says.  
  
"Let me go," the Rani suggests.  
  
The Doctor laughs. "That isn't going to happen. Don't you get it, Rani? There are only three of us left. I can't have you running around experimenting on humans, we've got to stick together."  
  
"The last human I ran an experiment wasn't on a _human_ ," she says, smiling sweetly at the Master. "Not really."  
  
"Not making it better."  
  
Gwen looks at the three Time Lords. The Rani is tied up and looking generally unhappy. The Master is free but glaring every time anyone says anything. And the Doctor is pretending that nothing is wrong with this picture.  
  
"Your plan," she says. "I think you need to reconsider."  
  
"What? Why?"  
  
She gives him a look. "You really have to ask?"  
  
"Just because they don't like me? That isn't anything new. No no no, that's no reason to change the plan. Delay it, maybe. Give her some time to cool down. Do you think?"  
  
"Probably a good idea."  
  
He nods slowly. "Have you dried up yet?"  
  
"Excuse me?"  
  
"Your breasts. It's been a couple of months since you've been around an infant. Are you still lactating?"  
  
She stares at him. "No. No, I am not, and that is an incredibly rude thing to ask someone."  
  
"Then you shouldn't be surprised that I asked it."  
  
"Please tell me this isn't going to be a repeat of-"  
  
"Of course it is. Don't worry, I'll 1217.4 you. Your son will appreciate it when you get back, too."  
  
"There's those words again. 'Don't worry'. Doctor, this was an awful plan the _first_ time. Do you even have a couple in mind?"  
  
"Yes. Well, no. But I'll think of one."  
  
"What are you on about?" the Rani snaps.  
  
The Master grins gleefully. "They're going to make you human."  
  
" _What?_ Oh no they're not!"  
  
"Hush," the Doctor says, then looks at Gwen. "I'll go wake her up almost immediately. We'll drop her off, and then I'll drop you off, and then I'll go wake her up. In that order exactly."  
  
"Promise?"  
  
"Promise. One dose of the human experience will do her a world of good."  
  
"Says who?" the Rani asks, glowering.  
  
"Well it worked for him." He jerks his thumb at the Master. The Rani eyes him curiously. "You think I'd let him walk around free if I didn't think it had had _some_ effect?"  
  
"Knowing you?"  
  
He points at Gwen emphatically, and she shakes her head but says nothing more.  
  
"Maybe I'm just waiting to get you alone," the Master sneers. "Before I break you down and make you-"  
  
"Yes," the Doctor interrupts, drawing out the word. "Because you've _never_ needed an audience."  
  
The Rani starts to muffle a giggle, then decides not to bother.  
  
"That's enough. Gwen, prepare the chameleon arc."  
  
"You do it. I have the gun."  
  
"That's a good point."  
  
  
  
The infant Rani is with them for four days. Gwen never even learns her name.  
  
She spends all four days locked in the set of rooms that make up her bedroom and the nursery, avoiding the Doctor and the Master.  
  
The Doctor and the Master spend all four days alternatively fucking and fighting, not even noticing that Gwen is avoiding them.  
  
At the end of it, Gwen puts the Rani into the arms of a woman called Caroline Price.  
  
And then the Doctor takes her home.  
  
  
  
"Here we go, Torchwood HQ," the Doctor says, tapping the landing coordinates on the screen proudly.  
  
"We don't call it that," Gwen says.  
  
"But it rhymes." He opens the door and looks out at Gwen's team. "No guns this time?"  
  
"We were expecting you," Lois says.  
  
"Next time, don't," he says. "Which one of you has that stun gun?"  
  
"That would be Johnson," Gwen says from behind him, pointing.  
  
"We're going to need you."  
  
"Gwen?" Johnson asks.  
  
"We've got a prisoner," she explains. "Going to need an escort."  
  
Johnson has the blaster in her hand immediately and follows them into the Tardis. The second she sees the Master she points it at him.  
  
"Not him," Gwen says. "Shockingly."  
  
"Oh, you have to be kidding."  
  
"Nope. He stays." She crosses the console room and opens the door to Sister-of-Mine's room. "She's in here."  
  
Johnson looks in and raises an eyebrow, though her aim doesn't waver. "She's a kid."  
  
"She _looks_ like a kid," Gwen corrects.  
  
"Trust me, she's not a child," the Doctor says.  
  
She gives him a look. "Sorry, but I'll take Gwen's word over yours."  
  
"Fair enough."  
  
"She's dangerous," Gwen says. "She needs to be put in a cell and isolated from anything else alive. Is that enough precautions?"  
  
"Should be," he says.  
  
"Get up," Gwen says. Sister-of-Mine sulks out at her and doesn't move.  
  
"The lady said get up," Johnson says, motioning with the gun. "Let's go."  
  
"I hate you," Sister-of-Mine says to no one in particular. She moves slowly, but gets up and lets Johnson and Gwen lead her out of the Tardis.  
  
"Are you back?" Lois asks, looking at Gwen hopefully.  
  
"Oh, yeah. Finally."  
  
"Gwen," the Doctor says, pushing the door shut before she can get out. "Before you go?"  
  
She turns around. "Now what?"  
  
He bites his lip, then asks, "Can I borrow your gun?"  
  
" _What?_ Why?"  
  
"Gwen," he says, hands on her shoulders. "Gwen Cooper. Do you trust me?"  
  
She shouldn't. In this moment, she _absolutely_ shouldn't, but she finds herself nodding anyway.  
  
"Show the Master that the gun is loaded, please. And then put the safety off."  
  
She does, hands moving on autopilot.  
  
"Thank you." He takes it from her hand and steps away.  
  
She wants to object - whatever is happening here is certainly objectionable - goes so far as to open her mouth and then swallows the words.  
  
He puts the gun into the Master's hand, curls his fingers around it, places the barrel against his own chest. "There's a good shot, but lower would be more painful, I should think," he says softly. His fingertips brush the Master's wrist as he drops his hand. "Either way guarantees regeneration, and I'm down to just one more after that. You could take them both."  
  
The Master stares at him for a minute in absolute silence (and _no_ his arm doesn't tremble, of course not), then scowls. "It's no fun if you're _complicit_ in it." He clicks the safety on and tosses the gun back to Gwen.  
  
The Doctor nods and walks over to open the door for her. "It was an honour travelling with you."  
  
She inclines her head. "I'd say feel free to visit-"  
  
"-but you'd really rather I didn't."  
  
"Maybe someday," she allows. "Next time the world needs saving."  
  
He pushes the door shut behind her.


	3. Chapter 3

"You _idiot_. You absolute- I could have _shot_ you!"  
  
"Yes. I... thought that was the point, actually. Why didn't you?" He sounds calm. Much too calm for someone who just _put his life_ into the Master's hands.  
  
The Master wants to shake him until his teeth rattle, but settles for staring at him instead. "You're _disappointed_."  
  
"No, I-" He shrugs. "Close enough. I seem to be chock full of self-loathing this time around. Might've changed that. _Look_." Around him, the threads of that lost timeline pull taut, the missed possibility becoming somewhat more present. It's a cheap trick, not the sort of thing he'd expect from the Doctor. "You could have recreated me in your image. Bled into the wound. Or other things, if you didn't mind Gwen watching. I'd have regenerated that way, died and lived by your hand. Don't tell me you wouldn't have _enjoyed that_."  
  
He doesn't know he intends to hit the Doctor until his hand is stinging and the Doctor is rubbing his jaw. The probability field collapses. "What's _wrong_ with you?"  
  
"Good question. That really hurt," he adds, dropping his hand. "I think I'm probably losing my mind, not that it ever did me much good." He yawns. "It's been a hectic few days, I'm knackered. Navigation's isolocked - probably - and Torchwood won't let you get more than a few steps out that door, but feel free to try to escape while I have a nap."  
  
Without waiting for a response, he turns and heads off down a corridor. Leaving the Master alone in the console room. With navigation controls that are only probably locked.  
  
He sits down, trying to think it through. Obviously the Doctor hasn't inexplicably and inadvisably decided to _trust_ him, that would be ridiculous. Which doesn't leave very many possibilities-  
  
 _It isn't a trap. Or a trick. Quit thinking so loud,_ the Doctor says into his head, like that's normal, like that's how they _work_ , and it isn't. It's _not_ , and hasn't been for centuries. He catches that thought and throws it at him viciously, and the Doctor goes completely silent. Even the part of his mind that's been buzzing unobtrusively at the edge his own since the drums vanished shuts off, and the shock of that absolute silence is enough to keep him rooted in place when the door opens.  
  
The Doctor moves without looking at him, flipping switches and locking down panels until he's the only one who can access them. He seizes the Master's arm in a vice-like grip and drags him out of the room. (The Master blames his lack of protest on curiousity and nothing else.)  
  
"The first time," the Doctor says. "In centuries. Here we are, first time in centuries, you're not actively trying to take over the world! _Forgive me_ for not knowing what to do with that!" He lets go and the Master stumbles a few more steps. "Seal the corridor."  
  
" _What?_ " He spins around but the Doctor has already stepped out of reach.  
  
"I'm sure you can find some way to amuse yourself until I figure out how to deal with you." He smiles in an entirely unpleasant manner, then blurs and disappears as the corridor is sealed off from the rest of the Tardis.  
  
" _No!_ " he shouts. He kicks the nearest wall.  
  
  
  
The Doctor manages to sleep for about three hours, tossing and turning the whole time. He wakes up feeling restless, like there's something itching under his skin. Casting about with his mind, he finds the Master and bounces right off his mental shields.  
  
"Well, fine, then," he mutters. "Be that way."  
  
He rolls off the bed and shrugs his blue jacket on, heads up to the console room. The isolock is irritating, but not enough to bother switching it off again. He throws the ship through timestreams and lands her again, murmuring at the console in Gallifreyan. There's the usually soothing calm of her answering consciousness, but it doesn't provide the usual balm.  
  
She prods at him curiously and he pats the nearest bit of coral. "I don't know, love. I'm just jumpy. It will probably pass."  
  
He spends the next hour trying to concentrate on modifying his sonic screwdriver (it's long past time for there to be a setting for wood, honestly) before throwing it against the wall, then following it with his head.  
  
"I don't understand," he whines, leaving his cheek pressed against the wall. The Tardis sends the impression of patting him on the shoulder. "Is the Medlab anywhere near here?" He immediately knows where it is. "Ta."  
  
He makes his way there and goes through every test he can think of the prove he hasn't picked up some ridiculous disease. The restless feeling just gets worse, growing into a strange ache in the space between his hearts, like loneliness but _louder_ somehow.  
  
He's just gotten back the last negative result when he feels his mind glance off the Master's shields. It takes him a second to realise that it's not the first time.  
  
It crashes over him as soon as he makes the connexion. He feels the Master like a phantom limb, something that should be there but isn't.  
  
"Oh, fuck."  
  
  
  
The Doctor slams open the door into the Master's corridor. He looks up from the experiment he's running.  
  
"Can I help you?"  
  
"I think I'm addicted to your brain."  
  
It's such a preposterous statement, and said with such calm conviction, that he can't do anything other than stare. " _What?_ "  
  
The Doctor starts to pace. "When you were in the fobwatch I'd keep it open half the time just to hear you, just to prove you were still there, do you remember? Do you have any recollection of that at all? I'd only just regenerated and it was, oh, it was such a _stupid_ risk, I knew what could happen, I knew and I did it anyway. And then yesterday, after - _after_ , that was the first time since-" He voice cracks and he looks surprised. "I can't even _think_ , do you have any idea what that's like, for me? And you keep batting me away and I didn't even realize I was _doing_ it, it wasn't even _conscious_ , I can't help it."  
  
"You _imprinted_ on me?" he demands incredulously.  
  
"It was an accident," the Doctor says, voice very small. "And that should worry me, shouldn't it? I should be concerned that I want you in my head so badly that it's overwriting my higher brain functions but I'm not because all I can think about is - _help me!_ "  
  
"All you can think about is...?" he prompts, letting the question just barely brush the Doctor's thoughts. The shudder that goes through him, body and mind, is intensely gratifying.  
  
"Oh, _fuck_ , I should have- should have known you'd be a bastard about this." He grabs a fistful of his own hair as if he thinks that will help. "You never could resist looking a gift horse in the mouth. Come _on_."  
  
All he has to do is do nothing and watch the Doctor fall to pieces in this corridor, the one-way telepathic bond breaking down and leaving him split open, raw and vulnerable, all his defenses shattered. The probability of it is _delicious_ and he waits until it's almost a tangible reality, until he can feel that possible future in his fucking _bones_ to say, "Beg me."  
  
He doesn't even hesitate, a litany of pleas spilling past his lips as if he was just waiting for the order.  
  
That kind of desperation is a heady elixir and the Master is dizzy with it in seconds, gives in and pushes his mind into the Doctor's, into the very core of him. _That's enough_ , he thinks, and the Doctor goes completely still.  
  
"Thank you," he breathes, like he can't help himself, and the Master lunges, shoves him back against the wall and holds him there.  
  
"Looks like I don't have to kill you to recreate you after all," he growls.  
  
"No," the Doctor says, and it's an agreement, not a protest.  
  
The Master lets him go and stalks across to the other side of the hall, withdrawing all but the tiniest tendril of his mind. "Better?" he snaps, glaring. "Is that what you wanted?"  
  
The Doctor nods shakily. "Now what?"  
  
"How should I know? None of this was _my_ doing."  
  
"I-" He clears his throat and makes a go of regaining his composure. "I would have offered to drop you off somewhere, but I don't think I can, now."  
  
"If I asked, though," he ventures, latching on to something in the Doctor's voice.  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Doctor-"  
  
" _Don't!_ "  
  
 _Doctor._ That shuts him up. "There's no point in your suffering if I can't witness it."  
  
He blinks. "You're not... going to leave?"  
  
He doesn't dignify that with an answer.  
  
The Doctor waves one hand vaguely. "You can go back to whatever you were doing, I promise not to have another breakdown while you're not watching."  
  
"Think you can schedule them now, do you?"  
  
It's a casual jibe, he doesn't even mean for it to hurt, but it makes the Doctor flinch and ball up his fists.  
  
"If you'd just _let_ me-" He chokes on the words when the Master plants a particularly lewd thought in his mind. "Oh, _fuck_."  
  
"That's the first good idea you've had all day." He grins.  
  
"No." He shakes his head, whatever crazy mood that had come over him vanishing just as quickly. "Sorry, I have better things to do than play this game with you."  
  
"You _what?_ "  
  
"You heard me. I'll unseal the corridor, but the console will remain isolocked, for now, anyway. She's a big ship, I'm sure we'll find some way to coexist." He straightens his clothes and runs a hand through his hair. "Whew, going mental is hell on the metabolism, I'm ravished. Kitchen it is, then. You can come along if you like. Or stay here. Whichever."  
  
  
  
The Doctor cheerfully makes himself a disjointed breakfast, chattering away about something the Master doesn't bother to listen to. Instead he traces the outline of the Doctor's thoughts, trying to identify what had gone sideways this time around. Every now and then he brushes the jagged edge of something skittish and the Doctor stutters, his eyes going very briefly unfocused before he recovers.  
  
"That's really distracting, you know," he says after the twelfth time it happens.  
  
"I'm not listening anyway." He prods at the Doctor's memories. "You nearly let _the Rani_ overwhelm you? Really? The Rani?"  
  
The Doctor shakes a forkful of pancake at him. "One, she was being boosted by a demipath, and two, shut up."  
  
" _The Rani_."  
  
"Need I remind you that she got into _your_ head so thoroughly she left actual scar tissue?"  
  
"I was human," he says dismissively. "It's not the same thing."  
  
He tunes out the Doctor's response and goes back to looking through his brain, idly setting off a few particularly sensitive receptors as he goes. By the time he finishes the first pass and glances up, the Doctor's fork is hanging limply from his fingers, forgotten. He takes it and sets it on the table.  
  
"What part of 'I'm not playing-"  
  
"The 'not'," he cuts him off. "I'd think that would be obvious."  
  
"Master..."  
  
"You really need to fix these barriers." He reaches over to tap the Doctor's temple and cards through his surface thoughts. "It's astounding that you don't have a parasite."  
  
The Doctor squirms but doesn't attempt to stop him. "I'm not stupid. It think I'd notice a parasite attaching."  
  
"You didn't notice-"  
  
"Not the same thing," he says quickly. "Imprinting's voluntary."  
  
" _Is_ it now?" He folds his hands on the table and leans forward.  
  
"You know it is. It can't happen if you're not willing." He stares at a random spot on the table. "I told you I knew it was a possibility."  
  
 _Put these up,_ he thinks touching the Doctor's mental barriers gently. _If I'm going to be poking around in here I'm the_ only _one waltzing in and out. No surprise visitors. Understand?_  
  
The Doctor nods, raising his telepathic shields even though keeping the Master out of his head is the last thing in the world he wants.  
  
 _Don't be ridiculous._ He lets the thought echo through him, watching the exact reaction that gets from the Doctor's body. _I thought you knew how imprinting worked. You couldn't keep me out if you_ tried.  
  
He reaches across the table and takes hold of the Doctor's wrists, digging his thumbs into the pulse points.  
  
 _When we're done here you won't even hear a telepathic sneeze unless it's right on top of you._  
  
"That sounds dangerous," the Doctor half-protests.  
  
 _Everything's dangerous.Come here._ He tugs on the Doctor's wrists and the Doctor nearly scrambles over the table to get to him.  _Reciprocal pulse points. I bet you can think of at least one._  
  
He watches the Doctor's eyes catalogue every pulse point on his body.  
  
"Should I pick for you?" he asks eventually.  
  
"I know what you'd pick."  
  
"Then get on with it."  
  
Which is how he ends up fine-tuning the Doctor's mental barriers while the Doctor sucks him off at the kitchen table.  
  
Afterward, the Doctor rests his chin on his knee. "If you're quite finished, I have an invasion to go stop."  
  
"And if I'm not?"  
  
"Well, I still have an invasion to go stop. You could come along, I suppose. Keep me out of trouble."  
  
"As if I would."  
  
The Doctor shrugs. "Stay here, then. This won't take long. I should only be a couple of hours."


End file.
